C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
John Stuart Blackie (1809–1895)
The Hope of the Heterodox
I
In thee, in thee, in thee!
Though banned by Presbyter and Pope,
My trust is still in thee.
Thou wilt not cast thy servant out
Because he chanced to see
With his own eyes, and dared to doubt
What praters preach of thee.
Oh no! no! no!
For ever and ever and aye
(Though Pope and Presbyter bray)
Thou wilt not cast away
An honest soul from thee.
And thee, and ever thee,
With open heart and open eye
How can I fail to see?
My ear drinks in from field and fell
Life’s rival floods of glee:
Where finds the priest his private hell
When all is full of thee?
Oh no! no! no!
Though flocks of geese
Give Heaven’s high ear no peace,
I still enjoy a lease
Of happy thoughts from thee.
It grows erect and free;
No Talmud on the Rabbi’s shelf
Gives amulets to me.
Small Greek I know, nor Hebrew much,
But this I plainly see:
Two legs without a Bishop’s crutch
God gave to thee and me.
Oh no! no! no!
The Church may loose and bind,
But mind, immortal mind,
As free as wave or wind,
Came forth, O God, from thee!
But mine as good may be,
And healthy men on healthy food
Live without you or me.
Good lady! let the doer do!
Thought is a busy bee,
Nor honey less what it doth brew,
Though very gall to thee.
Oh no! no! no!
Though Councils decree and declare,
Like a tree in open air
The soul its foliage fair
Spreads forth, O God, to thee!